Overwhelmed
by Bystander38
Summary: An additional chapter to Tracy Lent's play, August: Osage County which chronicles Beverley's last moments.


**Overwhelmed**

I was engulfed in color and all was well.

It wasn't until I almost fell face-first into the toilet that I realized the "colors" was actually my improvised dinner of beer and vodka. I don't know how long I stayed there, sprawled over the toilet on the floor of the motel bathroom, but it was nearly dark by the time I had pulled myself off the ground. Upon standing up, I managed to catch a glimpse of something quite peculiar.

It was so beaten and in such a feeble state. The hair on its head was a mangled mess, streaked with isolated strands of silver all around. Adding to the indication of its age and broken body were the deep creases that traced the majority of its face, made only more noticeable when it spoke or on rare occasions, expressed emotion. In fact, the only part of its face that was free of any visible folds was the lower chin and this was only because weeks without a razor had led to the oncoming of a dishevelled beard. The rest of its body was no exception either, indicating signs of a weary life with its slumped shoulders, bent stature and coarse hands. It was such a depressing thought that it had once been quite handsome and burly, but alas, the days of its prime were long gone and it has since been reduced to a bottom feeder. It was now abandoned, without a purpose, beyond hope and was staring right at me. _It_ was me.

Sweat drenched the back of my shirt and the heavy beating of my heart pulsed through my ears. The old boat pulled slightly to the side with each row as my strength began to waver and my rowing rhythm became unsynchronized. A full moon was out tonight and there was just enough light emanating from it for me to make out my breath that became increasingly shallow with each row. Within a few seconds I was too tired to go any further and stopped somewhere in the middle of the lake. Exhausted, I let go of the oars, stretched my arms and took in the surroundings.

Even after nearly half a century, the lake had barely changed at all. With a diameter of approximately five miles, it wasn't a particularly large lake. Just in front of the boat was a clearing that seamlessly blended where the night sky and shoreline met, revealing the several shimmering stars above me. Something about the stars demanded my attention tonight and I soon found myself fixed upon them and their luminous glory.

For a moment I found myself wondering where it all led to, the land beyond the stars? Surely it had to be better than what was here, a caustic world where I am chained to dreary existence. An existence where I am subjugated to only torment and woe despite my strives for reverence and purpose. How many times will I have to find myself staring up at the stars before I realize that the celestial lights are far beyond my reach and comprehension? Am I forever condemned to grasp upwards towards these lights, only to behold the futility of such an act?

Suddenly, something within the water caught my attention. At first I thought it was just a reflection of one of the stars but then I saw the glimmer again. I leaned forward to the side of the boat, keeping my left hand firmly grasped to the seat to prevent myself from tipping over. Upon looking into the water, I beheld the impossible and wonderful.

Intermingled within the waves of the lake were images. Initially the images were indiscernible in their disarray, but the longer they held my gaze, the clearer they became. Flashing before my eyes were my family members, except there was something off about the whole scene and it wasn't the fact that they were being projected onto the water. It was the fact that they were happy, something that hasn't happened in a long time. The pictures moved at an alarming rate, sometimes flashing several simultaneously. However, they gradually slowed down and stopped at a single image. This one in particular was of the family having dinner. It wasn't a grand one either, not one that is suited for Thanksgiving or Christmas or even a reunion. It was just dinner. Yet somehow, it felt like so much more. Everyone was there, even Karen whom was not one for family dinners. At the side of the table were Barbara and Bill, enthusiastically engaging in conversation with Ivy and Charles who were affectionately holding each other's hands. Meanwhile, at the head of the table was Violet. She was dressed in a simple white gown and seemed quite sober, enough to be teaching Jean how to balance a fork on her nose anyway.

Then I saw Violet turn towards me, almost as if she could see me through the watery veil. With her left hand, Violet reached out towards me and beckoned me forward. I did a quick scan of the scene but none of the other family members seemed to notice her strange behaviour. I noticed that Violet had her wedding ring on, which is quite strange since she hadn't worn it in close to ten years. Again, Violet beckoned for me to come and this time the other family members joined in. Within an instant, everyone at the table turned towards me and smiled with genuine affection and welcome.

Unexpectedly, this great wave of passion and the urge to join the scene with my family overcame me. I didn't care whether or not if the entire scene was just a hallucination or the imagination of a desperate man. All I wanted was to take hold of the essence of that moment and never let it go. So I reached for Violet's hand until I felt the warmth of it within my own.

I was engulfed in color and all was well.


End file.
